It’s feels so good to get it out there. It feels a bit unreal though as I’ve been thinking about it for so long but never found the courage until today to pull the trigger.
I re-wrote the final paragraph several times.
‘My experience at Hamilton’s was not an isolated case but a reflection of the culture of misogyny and bullying in the company. Many of my colleagues were also victims of harassment and intimidation and were threatened with dismissal if they complained. I hope sharing my story will encourage others to come out and say what they went through and Hamilton’s are held to account for their mistreatment of staff.’
It was painful writing that stuff. I lost two stone in my last year there with all the stress I suffered. That so and so Mr Welsh thought it was amusing.
‘Are you planning to be a model, Carol? That prisoner of war chic suits you.’ The big fat git enjoyed trying to get a rise out of female staff.
But now it is out there on social media for all to read about. I’m going to have glass of wine and put on some music. I get a bottle of Pinot Grigio out of the fridge, grab a glass and go into the lounge where I’ll put on Abba’s greatest hits, pour myself a large one and flop on the sofa.
A few glasses later, “Voulez Vous” is playing at full volume and I’m up on my feet singing along. I’ve got a rubbish voice but I don’t care who hears me. When it finishes, I head unsteadily towards the little girls’ room and spot a letter lying on the door mat. I pick the envelope up, wander into the kitchen and tear it open. It’s from a firm called Smith and Hibbitt.
‘I am writing to remind you of the terms of the Non-Disclosure Agreement (NDA) which you signed when you left the employment of Hamilton’s on 31 May 2023.
In return for a severance payment, you undertook not to disclose to any third party information either related to (a) the circumstances relating to your departure from the company or (b) its management practices.
I must reiterate that my clients will not hesitate to take legal action in the event of you disclosing such information and will seek damages in court.’
I don’t remember any NDA but I recall Mr Welsh walking into the workshop on my last day waving a piece of paper with his sausage fingers.
‘Sign this, Carol, before you go. You don’t need to read it. It’s just a formality.’ He stood over me breathing heavily as I autographed it.
Lying bastard. But Hamilton’s can go whistle if they think they’re going to get anything off me. I spent their lousy payoff ages ago and don’t have any savings.
I scrunch up the letter and throw it in the bin. I’m going to crack open another bottle and put Gloria Gaynor on.
About the author
Rob lives in Edinburgh started writing short stories during lockdown. To date, he's had several tales published by Cafe Lit and others in various anthologies. He likes to experiment with different genres and styles of writing.
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